The Memories Are Bittersweet
by baturtlesab1
Summary: Beaten, raped, and confused, Raphael must face his inner demons to save himself. Will his brothers be too late to stop what their father started? TCest, rape, self-harm. Don't like, don't read. Reviews and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism are welcome!
1. Chapter 1

Raphael was thrown to the ground by his older brother, Leonardo. The blue masked turtle tot had hit his younger, red banded brother hard in the chest, making Raphael lose his balance and fall. Raphael sat up and rubbed the sore spot on his plastron, his gold eyes sparkling with tears. "Leo, that weally huw't!" The hothead everyone in the darker side of New York knows had been a shy and easily ruffled child with a speech impediment. Over the course of three years, young Raphael went from the innocent child he had been to the ruthless hothead he is now. Three years of suffering from verbal abuse of all kinds from his siblings changed Raphael. Gave him a back bone. It also ruined the relationships he had with his brothers; the thick trust his brothers had didn't extend to Raphael, and the red-banded turtle was in touch with everyone through thin strings. His father realized this too late; nothing could be done to save young Raphael's innocence. Nothing could be done to save Raphael from all of his pain. As soon as the ties were severed, the red banded turtle had grown far from his brothers, growing to love the shadows, the city, and growing to not understand the concept of a 'loving family'.

Raphael stumbled into the lair, holding his scarlet mask to his side. Sticky, red, velvety blood poured from a bullet hole in the hothead's side. He was halfway sour of the shadows when he was yelled at, his oldest brother demanding to know where Raphael had been and why he didn't pick up his shell cell. Foolishly, considering he was a ninja, Leonardo didn't see his brother's wounds before he struck him. Blue lashed out at red and the injured turtle fell to his knees, his scarlet blood pooling around him. Raphael had been pulled to the infirmary where he was scolded by Donnie for being so foolishly careless while topside. Raphael had taken the lecture without any words of defense.

Many of Raphael's memories were played out like this; where he is scolded or teased for something he didn't mean to do.

A seven year old Raphael sat in his father's room, tears filling his wide, gold eyes. He sat on a mat with his knees drawn to his chest; small hands laced within each other to hold them as close to his honey-mustard colored plastron as possible. During sparring, his older brother Donatello had teased him and Raphael had gotten too rough for his father's liking, so the rat had told his second youngest son to stop and to get off the mat. The young turtle had done so, but Michelangelo had other plans. The orange-masked turtle child had brutally teased his older, red masked brother. Donatello joined in with some quips, his taunts stinging like physical blows. Leonardo had stood up for him, and Raphael had felt the sharp pang of relief until Donatello started to bully him for hiding behind the eldest. A fire never seen before by the Hamato brothers started in Raphael and he at brutally shoved Leonardo to the ground. He had pounced on his surprised brother and had straddled his chest, punching heavily with both small fists. Their father had pulled a still punching Raphael off of his brother and had told him to go to his room. Raphael saw something in his father's eyes, something that wanted to make him smirk and defy rules. This scared the young turtle. He did as told and went to his bedroom, haunted for the first of many times.

The modern Raphael had chosen a thin path to walk at the young age of thirteen, growing darker than his brothers and wearing the shadows like a second skin. His only younger brother, Michelangelo, admired his mysterious older brother. Raphael had wicked aim, able to hit a moving target with a shruiken or sai dead on from several rooftops away- without having to look. Raphael didn't get scared.  
Raphael didn't shy away from a fight.  
Raphael was strong.  
Brave.  
Loyal.

Raphael stood proudly as he was praised. He bathed in the rare, pleased tone in his father's voice. The pleased tone that usually went to his older brothers; sensei's prized students. Raphael was too reckless and Michelangelo goofed off too much during practice. Donatello and Leonardo focused on their training. Donatello was able to calculate certain trajectories and angles to earn advantages while still allowing Leonardo to fight using the awing grace of ninjitsu, not science. Donatello however, was not the best fighter on the team. That spot was reserved for Raphael. The misunderstood, mysterious turtle trained the hardest out of his brothers. He fought many inner battles at once and still stood strong. He fought physical battles with a burning fire-and although he came out the most injured majority of the time, it was because of him protecting his brothers' shells. He squared his shoulders and smiled at his father's praise. Dark, beady brown eyes focused on a deep, forest green face striped with a bright scarlet bandanna. His son was showing extreme pride from getting the small statement:" I am proud of you, Raphael." Too much pride. The father frowned slightly and watched as his son turned away. This troubled the father, and as he watched his son walk away, he realized how dark the path his hotheaded son walked was.

Not all of Raphael's memories were bad; he had several memories that he held close to his heart- his prized possessions.

An eight year old Leonardo sat with his younger brothers, laughing at a joke his youngest brother had said. He cast a glance at Raphael and grinned, patting the spot on the floor next to him. Raphael grinned back, showing off the new gap in his smile; proud that he was the first of the clan to lose a tooth. Michelangelo shoved a piece of pizza into his mouth, getting red sauce all over his face. Donatello laughed at his younger brother, the rest of the turtles joining in.

Four year old Donatello struggled to maintain balance on the two inch board, his brothers either behind him or in front of him or behind him, depending on age. Donatello was knocked down by Raphael, who had been shoved off the beam by Michelangelo. The two slammed into the ground, the youngest Hamato boy laughing at them. Leonardo jumped off the beam, helping his younger brothers to their feet. Raphael and Donatello looked at each other and amber eyes met burgundy. They gave a short nod to each other before jumping at the beam, tackling Michelangelo to the floor. The three rolled on the floor, laughing and tickling each other.

These memories were held close to Raphael's heart, letting a sliver of light shine in on his shaded aura.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hey guys!

Sorry for the long wait- I was recently involved in an accident (Nothing serious; no one was hurt), but it's been pretty stressful. Also, if you're reading my TA story, Mikey's prologue will be coming out soon. Then the real chapters will begin. ^-^ I will soon be on summer break, which means I will be uploading a lot more.

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Donatello watched as his younger brother disappeared into the shadows, his molten, gold eyes shining in the dimness; the same eyes Raphael had desperately tried to trade for his immediate older brother's burgundy eyes. They were practicing stealth for their third day of training; and Raphael seemed the best at it. Michelangelo couldn't figure out how to keep the light away from him, and kept creating a shadow. Leonardo was better than the youngest Hamato boy, but not much better. Leonardo kept tripping over things he couldn't see; Donatello doing the same. Raphael had the best eyesight in the dark, and he was easily the quietest of the four, making him the stealthiest of the small group. Raphael squinted slightly and his glinting eyes faded. Their father gazed into shadows, calling:" Michelangelo, go closer to the wall. Leonardo, Donatello? Focus on your feet and worry about the shadows. You must master the ability to tell where things are before you can melt into the shadows. Raphael, can you please step out of the shadows? You might be able to show your brothers how to adapt to the shadows like you have." Raphael walked out of the shadows silently, the light bending over his green skin, washing the shadows away. But, it was short lived. Raphael soon started practicing stealth, spending a large part of his childhood in the shadows. Raphael spent more time observing his family than spending time with them, which caused him to become anti-social. His father tried to get him to interact more with his brothers, but Raphael didn't want to; he enjoyed the company he gave to himself.

Nine year old Raphael snuck into the sewers, trudging through the murky water. He laughed at a joke he had mumbled to himself, not paying attention to where he was walking. He tripped over a small, shell-like stone. He skinned his knees and elbows badly. He didn't cry or even wince, not even when deep red blood started to stream down his shins and forearms. He turned bak to see what he had tripped over. He saw a head poke out of a muddy shell and he reached down and picked the baby turtle up to looked it over. It was male, going off of how the muddy plastron was flat instead of being slightly rounded. Raphael hummed and said:" Hey lil' guy. Ya' don't look like me and my brothas. Guess yer not the same kinda' turtle." He hugged the turtle to his chest and giggled when the turtle chewed on his mask tails. "Wanna come home with me, buddy? Huh? Yer awfully small, maybe ya' need somethin' ta' eat." With that, Raphael took the turtle home and named it Spike.

Raphael's father was pleased that his son had finally started to become more social, even if it was only with the unmated turtle his son had decided to call Spike. Although the father of four was pleased to some degree, he was also becoming worried. His second youngest son was becoming meaner to his brothers and was starting to give everyone besides Spike the cold shoulder.

Leonardo laughed as he charged at the second oldest Hamato brother with his bokken. He swung the wooden sword, gently hitting Donatello's shell. Michelangelo was pretending to be the princess and Donatello was the evil scientist. Of course, Leonardo was the prince in shining, ninja armor. Raphael however, sat in the side lines. Michelangelo called:" Hey, Raph! Wanna play with us?" The red masked turtle looked up for a moment before turning around, showing off his shell to the small family. Raphael gently murmured something to Spike, smiling as the turtle chewed on his leaf.

It was a rare thing to hear Raphael talk; and his voice seemed to change every time he used it. The faint Japanese accent he had gotten from his father had changed into a heavy Brooklyn accent from hearing people talking through the manhole covers. Raphael's accent grew easier and heavier as he grew older, confusing his father greatly. Michelangelo grew int using a Californian accent, even though his was completely fake while Raphael had actually started to talk with an accent. Leonardo kept the faint Japanese accent while Donatello had a common American accent. Being the only one with a strong accent, Raphael had a tendency to not speak. When this started to happen, the teasing started up again.

Splinter realized how deeply the taunts were hurting his son when he heard his son's Brooklyn accented, rarely heard voice singing passionately to his rusty and cracked radio. The rat listened to the lyrics, and his heart broke with every passing second. Louder than Thunder played on the young child's radio. He peeked into his son's room and was surprised by how much it had changed. The once grey bricks had been pained red, every other brick had been spray painted a darker shade of red, giving it a checker board feel. The floor, once peachy concrete, was now a light red and the bed was on it's side in a corner, a hammock now gently swaying in its place. Raphael had a screw driver in his hand, unscrewing the top of his radio. He pulled several wires out and he started to strip them of their rubber coating, Raphael pressed the two wires together and nodded, satisfied at with the small bolt of electricity. He attached them to the old camera his father had found a few years back, hooking the copper wires to the battery. With a smile, he plugged in the alarm clock and pressed the take picture button he had added to the alarm clock. His father blinked in surprise when the flash went off. Raphael grinned broadly, looking a the picture in excitement. The small victory was erased when the rat said:" Good job, my son." Raphael froze and quickly unplugged the alarm clock, stumbling out of the door in a haste to get away.

Raphael never built anything mechanical again, to his father's disappointment. Whenever he was caught doing some kind of hobby, he stopped ad acted like he wasn't doing anything at all. First it was making contraptions with left over parts, then it was reading, then playing card games with himself, and then it went to meditating. Even as a teenager, Raphael acted exactly the same.

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Thanks to everyone who's faved and followed so far! If you catch any errors, leave a review so I can fix them. That includes you, grammar Nazis. Oh, and one last thing... if anyone wants to make a cover image, I'd be honoured to put it up. C:


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